WK8: AOWL CHAMPIONSHIP: Certain (7-0) vs. dead man (5-2) [dead man wins, 6-1.]

dead man · 11-20-2014, 11:37 PM

i wandered for days. weeks, months, its hard to explain
like staring at the mountains when you're lost in the rain
its part of the game. you die, you win. and losing's a bitch
machete crack. vines twist like executioner wrists
crawling through the darkness during lunar eclipse
all i wanted was to find him. just to prove he exists
traversed sewers. ancient ruins. arctic glacial conditions
everybody else relaxed at home and prayed for their children
to survive an extinction. even daily traditions
never made me a christian. angel-dusted patriotism
so break this daily bread and fall to your knees
ill be walking the trees. wheezing for a moment's reprieve
marshy undergrowths the chalk water often recedes
from another pile of glass. another carcass to grieve
marching onward. the guillotine has started to lean
pressure on my jugular like counting the beat
doctorate degrees. coffee or tea? apartment was leased
nodding off, junkie jazz musician zombie regime
settling for gossip and agnostic agreeance
while iron-wrought Catholicism rots in my genes
in foggy distance it bleeds. stone column theological being
architectural. spirit sensual, apostle pristine
beyond the wall. this hostile shade of harvested green
i just.. wanted to see if i could ever feel better
stairwell curves like spinal tap or necks in a nod
or rail tracks connecting southern Paris to Prague
forest temple. mossy monument. cemented facade
echoes in the hallway like a rippling pond
walkway lined with demon statues sinful as god
so i'm reminded how our shamans share a sensitive bond
wooden doors like yacht floors. oily hinges and knob
entering. calm, collected, resolved. and wait for salvation
i fell to my knees. waited for grace with sweat in my palms
sweat on my brow. head in the clouds, confessing it all
i waited to fall. to burn or brighten. rise or descent
waited a moment. got to my feet and silently wept
for the time and effort, miles and sacrifices and debt
only to collect another pang of regret
recollecting passages in pages we read
inhaled. tried to cry and started laughing instead..
thats faithfulness. to take indoctrination in jest
without a journey destinations never make any sense
its relationships. not eucharist. no vision or portals
i've lost so many people i've considered immortal
recognized, its not important. I'm no more than a tourist,
made aware of all the beauty in this forest. free at last

DEADMAN

11-20-2014, 11:37 PM	#2
dead man living Join Date: Jan 2013 Posts: 3,485 Battle Record: 33-18 Accomplishments - Hall of Fame Champed - AOWL Season 1 - Art of Writing League - AOWL Season 4 - Write Week V - GWL Season 1 Rep Power: 77606679	i wandered for days. weeks, months, its hard to explain like staring at the mountains when you're lost in the rain its part of the game. you die, you win. and losing's a bitch machete crack. vines twist like executioner wrists crawling through the darkness during lunar eclipse all i wanted was to find him. just to prove he exists traversed sewers. ancient ruins. arctic glacial conditions everybody else relaxed at home and prayed for their children to survive an extinction. even daily traditions never made me a christian. angel-dusted patriotism so break this daily bread and fall to your knees ill be walking the trees. wheezing for a moment's reprieve marshy undergrowths the chalk water often recedes from another pile of glass. another carcass to grieve marching onward. the guillotine has started to lean pressure on my jugular like counting the beat doctorate degrees. coffee or tea? apartment was leased nodding off, junkie jazz musician zombie regime settling for gossip and agnostic agreeance while iron-wrought Catholicism rots in my genes in foggy distance it bleeds. stone column theological being architectural. spirit sensual, apostle pristine beyond the wall. this hostile shade of harvested green i just.. wanted to see if i could ever feel better stairwell curves like spinal tap or necks in a nod or rail tracks connecting southern Paris to Prague forest temple. mossy monument. cemented facade echoes in the hallway like a rippling pond walkway lined with demon statues sinful as god so i'm reminded how our shamans share a sensitive bond wooden doors like yacht floors. oily hinges and knob entering. calm, collected, resolved. and wait for salvation i fell to my knees. waited for grace with sweat in my palms sweat on my brow. head in the clouds, confessing it all i waited to fall. to burn or brighten. rise or descent waited a moment. got to my feet and silently wept for the time and effort, miles and sacrifices and debt only to collect another pang of regret recollecting passages in pages we read inhaled. tried to cry and started laughing instead.. thats faithfulness. to take indoctrination in jest without a journey destinations never make any sense its relationships. not eucharist. no vision or portals i've lost so many people i've considered immortal recognized, its not important. I'm no more than a tourist, made aware of all the beauty in this forest. free at last DEADMAN __________________ Zack Wicks for president